


Progression

by MorinoAthame



Series: What's Age Got to Do With It? [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Family, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorinoAthame/pseuds/MorinoAthame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pregnancy is coming along, and while some things get better, there's always something else to take their place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Progression

Four months and some change into the pregnancy and Bobby was glad to report his nausea was coming less and less. In fact, he had an entire week with only one trip to the toilet to lose his stomach contents. Fatigue had been his only other annoyance and two naps a day were doing well at keeping him from feeling too horrible in that regard, as much as he hated needing them.

His third month had been _horrible_ , nothing but terrible nausea and falling asleep constantly or being worn out if he didn’t. He’d dozed off in the bath, on the toilet, and even while talking to Garth on the phone, not that it was an inconvenience, that last one. He’d also dozed while driving the fork lift, which had put a stop to using heavy machinery around Sam, though he had some chances while under Crowley’s watchful gaze.

Sam… after finally calming down and making up, the boy had hovered _twice_ as much. The aggravation had only made his fatigue worse. Often Crowley pulled him aside, just the two of them, letting Bobby do whatever it was he wanted to do, however dangerous, always right there to save him if the need came. He didn’t choose to do anything too dangerous, just working in the scrapyard or eating the wrong thing or climbing a ladder.

Needless to say, Crowley and Sam… He didn’t want to think about the butting heads and egos. When Crowley was off doing whatever it was the demon did, Sam was ‘in charge,’ or so he thought. Bobby did his best to ignore the boy, but Dean had given up trying. He’d taken up in Crowley’s absences, putting a foot down about how stifling the younger man was being.

Bobby thought it was in part to have an outlet for Dean’s pent up sexual frustration. He was about to shove the boy and Cas in the panic room and leave them until _something_ was resolved, but he hadn’t found proper wards to lock in the angel yet.

One day not far into his fourth month had started out rainy, confining Bobby and Winchester’s alike inside, away from the scrapyard Bobby and Dean both used as means for alone time. Dean had parked himself in front of the TV, his other usual spot, while Sam was busy doing something on his computer not far away. The angel had been missing all morning, and Crowley, much to Bobby and Dean’s pleasure, had taken over the kitchen.

It was all exceedingly… domestic.

Truth was, Bobby wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Any moment, life was more than likely going to drop the next overly complicated, Armageddon sized crisis in their laps, and there they were playing house in their own dysfunctional fashion. It worried Bobby.

On the other hand, at _that_ moment, nothing was going wrong, everyone was playing nice, at least as much as they were capable, and in ways the old hunter had never been so happy… Except with Karen; which was a tangent he refused to go down. His wife, God love her, was gone, twice ripped from him by evils of the world. She’d be happy he was happy, and that was enough.

What really worried Bobby, kept him awake despite fatigue, and likely making it worse in the process, was the knowledge that his child was going to be a part of the same world that had seen him kill his Karen, twice; seen each of his boys lose everything more than that. The fear clawed at his chest and throat sometimes, so tangible and consuming. He knew eventually, if he stayed _so_ tired, this fear would follow him to sleep.

But, fear of fear, of the moments of gnawing anxiety, got him nowhere, and he wasn’t going to wallow or brood, what had that gotten him when he was stuck that damn chair? If there was anything that might set him to brooding, it would only be boredom and the fact he had little else to do.

Bobby sighed, heaved himself up from his chair, and headed for the kitchen. More and more he found himself drawn to the demon’s proximity. He smiled to himself as he faintly heard Crowley singing some Scottish song under his breath as he kneaded away at some dough. Bobby moved toward the demon’s back, but he had to grab onto a chair as the world suddenly spun around him.

He must have made some sound, because strong arms were immediately around him, holding him firmly upright yet cradled. He leaned into Crowley’s chest easily. “I’m alright,” he told the demon once the dizziness passed, but he didn’t pull away.

“Let’s sit you down, luv.” Crowley eased him down onto the chair he’d used for support. “Have you eaten recently?”

He grunted softly. “Waiting on dinner.” He’d had a decent enough breakfast.

Crowley rolled his eyes and moved to the counter, where he deftly peeled two oranges before handing the wedges over to the hunter. “Eat.”

Bobby eyed the fruit. Sam had been after him a lot with oranges and orange juice. He hated to think if they started to _agree_ on things. He’d be doomed.

“You need to eat something, keep your blood sugar up.” Crowley lifted an orange wedge to the hunter’s lips, tracing them lightly with the slice of fruit. Giving in, Bobby opened his mouth and bit into the juicy snack. “Good boy,” Crowley purred at him, stepping back just as Bobby kicked at him, a cheeky grin on his face. “Now, now, Robert. None of that, or I won’t feed you.” He held the rest of the fruit slice to Bobby’s mouth.

“I can feed myself.” He growled at him, half-heartedly. He liked the attention, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “Don’t talk to me like some damn hound of yours.” He glowered at the demon.

Crowley laughed at him. “Well, if the collar fits…” He dodged another kick. “You’re behaving rather petulant today, luv.”

Bobby growled again and made to stand, but he was easily held in place by a strong hand on his shoulder. He glared at Crowley, earning him a kiss on his brow for his trouble. He’d never understand the demon.

“Just eat your orange, luv, while I see to my bread.” Crowley moved away, not forcing the fruit on him. Sam would have hovered longer, and Bobby was happy as he shoved another wedge into his mouth that Crowley wasn’t that persistent… yet.

 

* * *

 

The shortness of breath started a week later. He’d woken and gotten out of bed as usual, but breathing seemed a little harder than it was supposed to be, like a band was wrapped around his lungs and preventing him from getting a full lungful of air. The dizziness he’d been fighting since that afternoon in the kitchen, only a few instances up to this new development, worsened afterward and it wasn’t long before his pulse started to race on occasion.

This was an annoyance but easily lived with, despite the increased hovering of an overly tall Winchester. He sat still, bored more than ever, and tried to stay calm. It helped some, but the symptoms weren’t from hypertension, and Sam was determined to keep it that way, just part of pregnancy, so it could only do so much.

The worst new thing, and being his age it was already an occasional irritation, was the constipation, however, which came a few days later. Dean was happy to point out Bobby generally looked constipated anyhow, so no one was going to notice. Had he felt up to it, he would have clobbered the boy, but the fatigue left him drained, the pressure in his bowels was making his back ache, and the world was sure to spin if he moved too fast. Dean liked this far too much as he grinned smugly and kept out of Bobby’s reach. At least until Crowley gave him a sharp smack on the ass.

Dean gave a sharp shout, and the small space that had existed between Crowley and Dean was suddenly very much full of angel, forcing hunter and demon to both suddenly jerk backwards with a startled exclamation of ‘Fuck!’ from the both of them. Bobby had a good laugh over the whole thing, and Sam came running in looking confused as he took in the scene in front of him.

The laugh was followed by gasping, as his breath left him. Bobby nearly panicked, unable to get the breath he needed and breathing faster the longer it didn’t come, but two sets of hands were on him, one large and assuring the other gentle, firm, and very warm. He closed his eyes and listened to Sam and Crowley both talk him into breathing slower.

When he opened his eyes, his vision swam for a moment with black spots before settling, and he leaned into the warm chest that had pressed into his side at some point. “I’m alright,” he told them, still panting just a little.

Crowley brushed his hair back, his hats had started disappearing and he’d given up on wearing them in the house, and kissed his temple. There was a slight tremble in the demon’s hand, and Bobby realized he’d actually scared him.

Sam stood from where he’d been filling Bobby’s vision and turned to Dean and Castiel, both of whom stood watching in concern. “I don’t know what you all were doing, but Bobby doesn’t need…”

“I’m fine,” Bobby bit out at him. “They didn’t do anything wrong. Stop jumping on everyone the minute something happens. I swear you’re worse than ten mothers.” It was an experience he didn’t want to repeat, but he was damned if someone was going to be blamed because his body was rebelling against him.

Sam’s expression was pinched but he relented with a small nod before leaving the room again. Dean’s eyes followed him, the older brother looking sad before guarding his expression and turning back to Bobby. “Okay, old man?”

“Peachy,” he grumbled. “Why don’t you take your jealous boyfriend and go catch a movie or something? You need to get out, get away for a while, Dean.” The younger man wasn’t good at being cooped up this long.

Dean flushed at the words then deeper when Castiel turned to look at him. “Jealous boyfriend?” The angel sounded confused and a tad jealous himself. “Is there someone I am unaware of?”

“He meant you, moron,” Crowley informed the angel, and while Bobby couldn’t see his face, he knew there was an eye roll involved.

Castiel blinked at them then looked to Dean, who was scratching at the back of his neck and looking at anything _but_ Cas. “Uh…”

“I will never understand the human sense of humor,” Castiel spoke. “Do you wish to catch a movie, though I am uncertain how one catches one? Are they not stationary objects?”

Bobby felt as much as heard the soft snort by his ear, and he elbowed the demon to keep him from saying anything.

“He means go watch one at the theater, Cas.” Dean smiled at him, the young man looking almost shy. “Want to go with me?” He asked, sounding as hopeful as he looked. Bobby was sure that Dean didn’t realize it in the least.

Castiel gave a nod. “I will go wherever you wish me,” he told Dean, and another snort sounded in Bobby’s ear.

“They’re making me sick,” Crowley whispered in Bobby’s ear. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the demon. They were a bit over the top.

“Great!” Dean grinned and headed for the door, angel in tow. “We’ll be back later!” He called to everyone else. A moment later, Bobby and Crowley were alone.

“Can you open a window? It’s too damn stuffy in here.” Bobby turned his head to look at Crowley. He wasn’t really hot, but the band around his chest was still there and it felt like his sinus was full of cotton.

Crowley kissed his temple again and stood, moving to open two of them before coming back. “Join me on the couch, luv,” he spoke, offering him a hand up before easily pulling Bobby to his feet and then arranging them both on the couch.

Bobby leaned his back into the demon, Crowley sitting comfortably in the corner of the couch with a leg along the back and the other on the floor. He relaxed and closed his eyes as oh so warm hands rubbed at the small swell that was starting to form on his torso, more prominent than the slight beer gut he’d been working on in his middle age. The touch and warmth at his back were relaxing, and he soon found himself starting to doze off.

A gust of wind blew through the windows, and it felt nice and he breathed deep. Bobby then promptly sneezed, hard, making his back spasm and his head hurt. Though, it did make the stuffiness in his sinus ease.

“Christ,” Crowley exclaimed softly, shifting around behind him, but before he could ask him what was wrong, a white handkerchief was pressed to his nose. He blinked owlishly and tried to turn his head to look at the demon. “Just hold still, Robert,” he was ordered, a slight edge to the tone that said Crowley was serious.

“What?” He asked, confused, especially when the cloth and hand stayed against his nose. “You want me to blow or something?”

“If you think it will help, but let me…” He pulled the cloth away, and Bobby saw that it was blossomed in red. Startled, he reached up toward his nose, but his hand was caught by Crowley’s and the cloth was pressed back against his nostrils. “You’re a right mess, you know that?”

Indignation shot through him, and he moved to struggle up. An arm circled around him even as it held fast to his hand, holding him firm against the demon’s chest, the fingertips, threaded through his own, stroking softly as lips pressed into the crown of his head. He settled, accepting the apology for what it was. “I hate this,” he breathed out softly.

Crowley sighed against his hair. “I know, luv.” Another kissed was placed on his head, and he closed his eyes, relaxing back against the demon more. “I’ve got you,” Crowley whispered into his ear. “Just rest now.”

Bobby closed his eyes and tried to do just that, squeezing the hand that still held his. He knew that Crowley wouldn’t be going anywhere, that he could rest there as long as he needed to and the demon wouldn’t move. That comfort meant more to him than he thought possible. While he knew the boys would never leave him, it was something else entirely to have strong arms to hold him, gentle hands to caress him, and, dare he say, a loving heart to embrace him. Where at first he’d not been certain what to think of Crowley or his intentions in this, or even in having helped with his heat, he was growing surer by the day that the demon was fully invested.

And so was Bobby. 


End file.
